


our words and minds so often don't align (in moonlight, black boys look blue)

by cactusboob



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Background Het, Background Relationships, Biracial Character, Black Male Character, Divorce, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, Heartbreak, Homophobic Language, Identity Issues, Internalized Homophobia, Internalized Misogyny, Interracial Relationship, LGBTQ Character of Color, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Second Person, Queer Character, Self-Hatred, Teenage Drama, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactusboob/pseuds/cactusboob
Summary: 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘺𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗋𝗒𝖺𝗇𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘺, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘵, 𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶
Relationships: Chad Danforth/Ryan Evans, Chad Danforth/Taylor McKessie, Troy Bolton/Chad Danforth, Troy Bolton/Gabriella Montez
Comments: 7
Kudos: 65





	our words and minds so often don't align (in moonlight, black boys look blue)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this took five-ever! i wrote this all on loose leaf first and then i spent a week editing and god only knows how long transfering it all to my phone.
> 
> also, i couldn't figure out the correct way to word this in the tags but, there is a scene where chad briefly wishes he were a different race and gender than what he is.
> 
> (to all my fellow black people, please don't think like that. your skintone/colour is perfect- rather dark or light.)
> 
> also, also: queer is used as a slur
> 
> (the songs in the summary are:
> 
> pray you catch me, by beyonce 
> 
> and
> 
> can't help falling in love, by elvis presley)

you have this want, this yearning that tugs at your heart and begs to be free. It starts off beginning and, then, it starts kicking and _punching_ and- you've never been able to say no to him, anyway. 

\---

"just an idea," he says and you think. well, you think a lot. you think, _god, he's pretty_ and _i want to kiss you_ but, in response to what he says, you think _you've got it pretty worked out, for it to be 'just an idea'_.

and, really, when it comes, when he leaves, it still shakes you right down to your very core. before he leaves, he says,'' call me," all timid and unsure- like you've never seen him before, like you didn't know he could be- like you're not going to call him, text him, _write_ him even, all day, every day. still though, you nod your head and say," of course, man."

\---

ryan isn't-

and troy isn't-

hmm-

well. 

they're not _each other_. ryan is ryan, who is wild, and flamboyant, and awe-inspiring. and troy is troy, who is familiar, all-american, and perfect.

you've, you've got to remember that.

\---

" danforth! get your head in the game!" 

but- you can't. this is the practice before your last game, your sweating buckets, all the blood in your body has gone to your ears and you, you _can't_. 

can't what?

get your head in the game? remove troy from your heart, so you can make room for ryan? or settle? settle for some girl and never think about troy bolton and ryan evans ever _again_?

distantly, as if through a fog, you hear troy say," i'll go talk to him, coach."

\---

after new years, as is tradition, you go to troy's. you're expecting video games, action movies and diet soda.

if you tell the truth to yourself, you were- well, you were expecting a date, of sorts. even though it really it really isn't, even though troy'll never see you like that, even though-

troy asks you," can i tell you something?"

(you've never been able to tell him no)

and, he tells you, boy _howdy_ , does he tell you? all about gabriella- her hair, her face, her," _voice_ , chad! gosh, man- you've got to hear it!" which, just. blah, blah, blah, _blah._

you don't sleepover, like you normally would. you feign sickness, which isn't that much of a stretch, really.

\---

your mom. she's scared, a lot. for you. because of who are you are and what you do and because of-

well, she's scared, a lot. for you.

\---

the most discrimination, so far, that you've been through is this:

your eight, and troy is stuck at home, sick with the flu, and there's this boy, zachary. _call me zach_. you wanted to be friends with him. or, maybe you wanted to hold his hand. it doesn't anymore, what you wanted.

you're eight, and it's recess, and you're walking up to zachary, rehearsing what you're gonna say in your head. zachary's laughing, when you get to him. it's a nice laugh. you take a deep breath.

" um, hi. i'm-" he holds his hand up, cutting you off. his face is contorted into something ugly. hate. distrust.

" sorry," he sneers. he doesn't look so pretty anymore. " i don't talk to queers." and he walks away, leaving you in his dust. you try not to cry.

\---

(you tell troy what happened that friday, when he comes back to school. he asks you," do you want me to sock him one?" 

[you never could say no to him, huh?]

zachary goes home with a broken nose, that day.)

\---

and ryan is. he's. indescribable, really. he's everything- all at once. he's amazing and heart-stoppingly beautiful and awe-inspiring and maybe, just maybe, a tad bit too much but, really, that doesn't matter because you, you lo-

you've said too much, actually 

\---

taylor is. she's. well.

she's taylor, who is smart, and beautiful, and figures _it_ out so fast, you get whiplash. she's so nice about it, too. says," i understand," and," you're not alone." and, later, she says-

"so, ryan, huh?"

it feels so good to have someone to talk to.

\---

"there are… people, chad. people who will want to, want to-" she hiccups a sob, has to start again.

you want to ask her, _what's wrong, mommy?_ , but, you don't. the conversation feels too weird -too serious- for you to say anything. 

"-who will want to kill you," she starts again, twiddling her thumbs as tears fall down her cheeks," just because of the color of your skin. and i just want you to know that you aren't, are _not_ , lesser because you are black, because you have black blood, okay? okay, chad, baby?" 

and you don't really understand. _why would anyone want to kill me just because i'm black? that's… weird._ your seven year old brain can't make sense of it all but, still, you nod your head.

your mommy's still crying, so you walk over to her. she sniffles, kneels down beside you, and gives you a fierce hug.

you still think about that moment to this day.

\---

troy says," chad, dude- what's your problem," and you want to say, you want to _yell_ \- ' you, taylor, _ryan_! fuck, the whole goddamn state of new fucking mexico- but, you don't. you don't. 

instead, you shrug. " you sure you're okay," troy asks, his blue eyes (you fell in love with the eyes first. god, they're so beautiful.)

you're not, not really. sure, that is. but this isn't- and troy isn't. there, there's no point in starting some deep, existential conversation. it'll only be met with a " yeah, well. get your head in the game."

\---

you, you're. well, you're, you- you can't say it, can't think it and you need to work that out. you really do.

\---

he makes your heart beat so fast, he makes you want so bad, he makes you _love_ so much, that it _hurts_ , hurts so bad you spend hours crying and-

he has so much control over you, over your _heart_ , and he doesn't even fucking know.

\---

your parents get divorced when you're fourteen. your mother makes sure to tell you that it's not your fault. and -well no shit, sherlock- you already know that. 

it's their fault, really. they're were the ones who got pregnant and married at eighteen- not you. 

\---

ryan smiles, slow and shy. he's fidgeting. you've never seen him fidget before. jazz hands and ball chains, sure. of course. but, fidget? no, never.

" so, well, um. you see, i was wondering, uh- date?" ryan is nervous and he asking you on a date, apparently, and-

\---

troy says," it'll be fun!" and you think, _ah, well. how bad could it be?_ but then, you remember evans will be there and that troy only wants to go because of gabriella.

you shake your head. _no, sorry. don't wanna go, troy_. you still end up going to prom. 

(never could say no to him.)

\---

you were raised to respect women, to love women, and to _expect_ women. 

expect women to cook, to clean, to work (but never, _never_ at a job that pays more than your’s), and to look pretty all the time.

taylor mckessie, on the other hand? she was raised to respect _herself_ , to love _herself_ , and to expect _herself_. 

expect herself to do good, to be treated like a human -not an object-, and to look the way _she_ wants as she does it all.

(she’s the smartest person you know and she will change the world, someday.)

\---

you're twelve, you and troy are outside, and the sun is setting. the sun is setting and troy -he, god, he looks _beautiful_ \- the sunlight's making some sort of halo, maybe, around his hair and-

_fuck_ . _so this is love_ , you think, and then you fall, and it hurts, and it feels so good, and-

\---

and that's another way you're different. being raised by your mom, you're … _sensitive_ , always ready for a heartfelt conversation. 

"like a sissy," your dad says, shaking his head.

\---

you keep having this dream. in this dream, there's troy, there's you, and there is your heart. (like, your actual heart -personified. really, if the dream wasn't so...odd, it'd be cool.)

and this is the way it goes:

you and troy are sitting in his den, watching some action movie. you're sitting pretty close, thigh to thigh.

troy pauses the movie, turns toward you, says," c'mere." his voice is soft, tentative. as you turn, out of the corner of your eye, you see your heart. 

it's gesturing wildly, _no, no, no! bad idea!_ , but you're not listening to it. troy leans forward and, then-

there's a flash of bright, blinding light and a high pitched scream. 

and, you wake up.

\---

sometimes -and you hate to admit to this-, you wish or you think," what if?"

god, if your father knew this, he'd disown you. if he knew anything about you, he'd disown you.

something, you think, _life would be a lot easier if i were some pretty little white girl_ , because then, then. troy would want you and zachary would've been your friend and you wouldn't be a-

but, you're not. and that's, well, _that_.

\---

basketball is the one thing that connects you and your dad. the only thing. yet- he hasn't been to one of your games in forever. that's fine. really, it is.

\---

"i can't get my feet to _work_ , evans, i just _can't_ ," you say. ryan smiles this adorable smile that makes your heart stop. he's rather pretty, when he smiles. he's rather pretty all the time, really.

kelsi, on piano, shoots ryan a look that he doesn't catch. you catch it, raising your eyebrow at her in response. ryan sighs, says something about 'basketball neanderthals', and sets about getting you to do the right moves. 

which entails being very close and touching. lots of. you hold your breath, nervous and exhilarated all at once.

when kelsi leaves, you and ryan are still practicing. at this point, you know what to do. you just want ryan to touch you.

"there we go," ryan says, when you finally move the right way. "i was beginning to think you were a lost cause." there's that smile again.

he's got thin, pale pink lips.

(to kiss-)

and, he's closer than he was before…

(or not to kiss-)

he licks his lips, looks at you.

(that is the question.)

you lean down, feeling the whole world shift as you move, then-

his lips are on your's and. they're soft. a little chapped, but soft. you put your arms around his waist. it feels nice. like this was meant to happen. ryan's arms are wrapped around your neck. his nails are rather sharp.

when you pull apart, ryan bites his lip, smiles at you, and continues talking about the dance moves.

the show must go on. no matter what.

\---

troy isn't-

(he isn't _the one_ , he isn't perfect, he isn't who you want.)

ryan isn't-

(he isn't too much, he isn't some weird theater kid, he isn't - _is not_ \- troy)

well, they're not _each other_ , and, for once, that's a good thing. 

\---

"son, i want you to know that i love you and that this has nothing -absolutely nothing- to do with you."

your father, he's leaving. all the divorce stuff is done, and he's _leaving_. you blink back tears. big boys don't cry. his hands are on your shoulders, holding you in place. he's keeping direct eye contact with you- it's uncomfortable. 

"you get that, right?" yes, of course you get _that_ , what you don't get is why he has to leave. why does he have to go all the way to california? why can't he stay in albuquerque? why, why, _why_ -

"good. that's- good."

\---

there is the sun, there is the moon, and there is the earth. you are the moon, troy is the earth, and ryan is the sun. 

you -the moon- orbit troy -the earth- but, you want so badly to be with, to have a single second with ryan -the sun- but, you can't. so, you continue to orbit the earth and try your hardest to forget the sun.

\---

the summer. you, uh. you try not to think about it, for a lot of reasons. the main one being -the root of nearly all of your problems, really- ryan.

ryan, and his stupid smile, and his stupid hats, and his stupid dance moves, and his stupid clothes,-"wanna try 'em on?"- who can play ball while twirling around like a beautiful, delicate ballerina.

being all tangled up in the dirt like that with him was, well, it was really fucking-

-and you've said too much.

\---

red, the colour of desire-

black, your heart of you're not with-

troy. you fell in love with him when you were ten. at this point, you two were best friends- nothing like the troy and chad of now.

_what happened?_

\---

that last game was. it's. god, it was _something else_. 

everybody was-

and you were-

and, god, troy was-

perfect. just, _perfect_.

\---

ryan takes kelsi.

zeke takes sharpay.

troy takes gabriella.

and, you take taylor. which is weird, because you feel bad and grateful all at once. because, this is taylor's prom, one of the days she is meant to remember for the rest of her life and she's spending it with _you_ \- someone that isn't even attracted to her but, at the same time, this is one of the days she is meant to remember for the rest of her life and she's spending it with _you_ \- someone that isn't even attracted to her, just to help you save face.

taylor mckessie is kind of awesome, really.

\---

it's the first day of first grade and you are terrified. two years of going to school and you're still not used to watching mommy's back retreat as she leaves. sliding down the wall you were leaning against, you try not to cry.

you're seven years old. a big boy. big boys don't cry. daddy says so. but, still, some wayward tears find themselves falling down your cheeks. you sniffle. 

"are you alright," a boy asks you. he's got a long mop of brown/blond hair and beautiful blue eyes that you feel kind of uncomfortable looking at.

you shrug, looking down at your shoes. they're black and white nike's. you got them for your birthday.

the boy hums and says,"im troy. wanna come play?" you don't, not really. you really just want to sit down and cry a bit but- "sure"

-this is troy, and you never could say no to him, could you?


End file.
